


The Law Ams a Fickle Mistress

by CynicalGinger



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, I swear I don't hate Skwisgaar, Legal Drama, M/M, Protective Siblings, Skwigelf progeny, Supernatural Elements, angry hoarde of Skwigelf bio family, general mentions of sexuality and queerness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:16:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8730895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalGinger/pseuds/CynicalGinger
Summary: Skwisgaar has fathered so many children there are conventions for them, and Charles has kept him from dealing with the consequences of his actions until now. But Skwigelfs are a vicious bunch, and they don't take kindly to people robbing them of what's theirs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyyy my first fic in a while! A friend got me into Metalocalypse and then ideas happened. Ideas that became fanfic.

There were things that Charles Offdensen had done in his life of which he was not proud, and there were things he had done that he would regret had he done them for anyone but Dethklok. Many things such as these had come up over the years, and most involved murder. However, there was one particular thing which Charles couldn’t help but be content with, even if he wasn’t exactly _proud_ that he had a hand in its creation. The Skwigelf contracts that meant Dethklok’s lead guitarist had both thousands of biological children and no responsibility for any of them was a nifty piece of legal work. Between that and Dethklok’s legal team, nobody had ever been able to come close to threatening the band’s wealth with paternity suits. Skwisgaar himself might not appreciate exactly how magnificent a document that waiver was, but Charles did. He slept soundly at night (when he found time to sleep at all) on that particular issue. There were so many things that Charles had to consider, and so many threats to the band, that frankly the waiver was rarely something he ever had to think about. 

 

As long as the law remained as it was, there was nothing that could threaten Skwisgaar (and by extension the band, and by extension, Charles’ income) where progeny were concerned. _Alleged_ progeny.  And on that front, very little had ever happened to worry Charles. Of course he kept tabs on what the alleged Skwigelfs were up to, should one of them ever become a threat, but few of them seemed to be particularly vengeful. Many had gone on to become successes in their own right. Many still had the potential to do so. But so long as none of them seemed overly spiteful about the whole situation, the fact that Skwisgaar continued to father children he had no intention of supporting was simply another facet of life at Mordhaus.

 

_

 

_Some Time Ago_

 

_

 

Los Angeles was one of the worst places in the world to raise a family. San Pedro was especially bad. Everything felt grimey, no matter where one chose to look. The Target, the movie theatre, the liquor stores and the small shops that dotted the streets… everything felt like it had a perpetual layer of grime over it. It made the small child standing outside a bookshop feel uncomfortable. They couldn’t explain it to their mother properly, who tried her best to be accommodating, but there was only so much she could do. The city and the suburbs felt so cut off from everything else. Though the child didn’t understand why, they felt as if they would be happier somewhere cold. Somewhere with trees and snow. Maybe a castle in the mountains. It wasn’t so much the thought of wealth or luxury that prompted these thoughts, but a sense of rightness. As though it was quite natural to long for something one had never known.

 

The child’s mother had said that they better get a good job if they wanted a castle in the mountains. They’d need servants to help keep a place like that clean. Their mother would know – when she wasn’t at her college classes during the day, she worked nights cleaning offices in the city. The child took this information on board, and although they didn’t say anything much about this dream afterwards, they drew clumsy pictures in crayon of a castle and an army of stick-men with dusters and vacuum cleaners for weeks.

 

_

 

“The court finds the defendant innocent!”

 

The judge on TV banged her gavel. Chaos descended upon the courtroom. The family of the victim huddled together crying, and the accused fanned herself as her defence hugged her. The child watched this show in rapt fascination, their drawings abandoned. The power of the courtroom was tantalising. From what the child could see, it was part theatre, part costume and part wit. The judge could destroy someone’s life – in fact from what they saw, either choice meant that a life was going to be devastated.

 

Not everybody could be satisfied. Somebody was going to lose, no matter what. And the judge and the jury held a great deal of power over who won and who lost. But the lawyers… they had to put on a show, to act their way out of it. There was power in that performance. Yes, they relied upon the law as their foundation, but the knowledge alone wasn’t enough. The jury could be swayed by a charismatic presence, and the judge could be persuaded by an elegantly arranged argument.

 

More than anything, the child could feel the power of the court calling to them. It was unlike anything they had ever experienced. They knew that their mother had been to court before, and that it wasn’t something she spoke about. Even when Grandma came over and spoke about “that damn man and his damn lawyers in court”, the child’s mother hushed Grandma and aggressively peeled potatoes. “It’s in the past, Mom. It’s in the past.”

 

It took the child a while before they felt they could speak about their strange need to become immersed in the law. “Mom?”

 

“Yes dear?”

 

The child fiddled with their top for a minute and looked down. “Can I go to the library?”

 

“Sure, I can ask your Grandma to take you there tomorrow.” The child’s mother smiled at them. “What are you looking for?”

 

For a moment the child wondered how to answer that question. “I want to be like the lawyers on TV. I want to know how to be like that.” They felt as if their explanation wasn’t sufficient, but it was hard to explain to their mother exactly what this feeling of direction and _need_ was. It was as if they had found their calling. Grandma said sometimes that people thought God called them to do something, but the child didn’t feel like they were being summoned as such. They felt like they were walking towards an obvious destiny, albeit one they had only just stumbled upon.

 

The child’s mother kept smiling. “Well, I think we can manage that. The library should be a good place to start.” She stirred the curry bubbling in the pot on the stove, and seemed to think for a moment. “I’m very proud of you. I know that things aren’t always easy, and I get stressed sometimes, but I love you and I’ll always be proud of you.”

 

Although the child didn’t often hug their mother, they decided then to hug her leg. “I know Mom. I love you too.”

 

_

  
For the child, visits to the library became a part of their routine. After school their Grandma would take them up to the public library, and they would sit and read through materials in the law section. They started off reading the easier textbooks, and there were some leaflets that were easy enough to read, but more often than not they found themself reaching for a dictionary or asking Grandma to get the big, heavy law dictionary off of the shelf. Grandma would usually go and look at the crime fiction books, which gave the child time to read, make notes, and look up words they didn’t understand.

 

Although their time in the library was limited, first by Grandma’s impatience to get home and make dinner, and then by homework demands, the child spent as much time as they could in the library. Their life was structured neatly around school, the library, and occasional visits to doctors and therapists. All in all, they were happy. Content, even.

 

But contentment was not built to last.

 

_

 

“Mom, why do you never talk about my dad?”

 

The child’s mother, who had been circling things in a paper, was frozen mid task. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t suppose this can wait, can it?”

 

The child shook their head, no. They had wanted to know about this for a long time.

 

“I had a feeling there was something on your mind. You’ve been very thoughtful lately, dear.” The child’s mother put down her pencil and paper, and patted the seat next to her at the dining room table. The child climbed up onto the seat beside their mother and waited for her to speak. “When I met your father, I wasn’t expecting to have a kid. I don’t think he did either, truth be told. And when I knew I was going to have you, I asked him to help me out. I didn’t expect him to pay through the nose, but… well, it ended up going to court. And I lost.”

 

“You lost?” The child sat up, confused. “But did you do the… the paternity test?” They didn’t know what the test was, but it was accurate enough to be trusted by courtrooms of people.

 

“Yes, but your father’s lawyers were far better than mine.” The child’s mother gave a short, harsh laugh. “I’m still angry about it. I don’t speak about it because I don’t want to make you or me or your Gran upset. But I need you to know that none of this is your fault, and that your Grandma and I love you very much. You’re the best unexpected thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 

The child knew that their mother loved them. The child had never doubted that their mother loved them. And they weren’t upset, not with their mother. But they felt a seething resentment that anyone would make their mother feel bad drop to the pit of their stomach. “I know Mom. I love you too.”

 

_

 

A few days before their twelfth birthday, the child (who was really growing quite tall and desperately needed some new t-shirts) was rummaging through some things in the closet. They knew that their mother had a packet of cookies somewhere, and they were determined that they would find it. Their search through boxes gained them some spare change and a wad of blutack, but neither of these treasures was the cookie they really wanted. They were thinking about whether to call it quits when they noticed a box at the top corner of the closet shelf. Even a few months ago it would have been far too difficult to reach, but the onset of a growth spurt and standing on tiptoes brought them victory.

 

The box held no cookies, but it did have an awful lot of interesting items. Pictures of the child’s mother, looking young and rebellious in dark make-up and a crop top. Some old wrist bands. Tickets from concerts. A journal with newspaper clippings and more photographs, which the child quickly snapped shut. And at the back of the box, there was a record. The record was from a band called Dethklok, and the album cover showed some burly looking men with angry faces. One of them stood out to the child: his hair was bright blonde, and his eyes were so blue they almost seemed to glow.

 

It was like looking in a mirror.

 

The nose wasn’t quite right, and the child had a rounder face than the man on the album. But their lips had always been full and their cheekbones were already getting quite defined. Even without the hair and eye similarities, it would still have been uncanny.

 

For a moment the child wondered if their mother found it hard to look at someone who reminded her so much of the man who hadn’t bothered to support his child, let alone raise them. They shook that thought off relatively quickly. Their mother had always told them she loved them. Even if their mother was angry or sad or having a bad day, she always softened when she told them that they were loved. No, their mother loved them a lot.

 

This man, however…

 

The child felt a deep resentment resurface for this man. They had never met him, but they knew that they would hate him on sight. They couldn’t imagine liking anyone who made their mother upset.

 

The child decided to quietly put the things back in the box, and waited until they were next at the library. Instead of going straight to the law books, they made a beeline for a computer.

 

It didn’t take much searching to find out that Dethklok was a popular metal band, and that the man on the cover of the album was the lead guitarist. Skwisgaar Skwigelf. Popular ladies’ man and renowned deadbeat dad. One article bragged that he had thousands of children, as if ignoring one’s progeny was a feat worthy of   praise. Hatred of this Skwisgaar only intensified the more they read about him.

 

_

 

Only the thought of other children like them gave the child pause. They hadn’t ever thought that there could be people like them in the world. Their family had always been very small. But now, they were being told that there were many people just like them, and that they weren’t alone.

 

And so the child took that knowledge and the boiling hatred and resentment that accompanied it, and the child carried it with them as they grew. They immersed themself in schoolwork and read as much as they could about law and the court system when they had time. Their grades climbed, and when they were told that they needed to take an extracurricular, they took up track. It was easy to keep focused on a single goal, and the running outfits were soft. They focused, and they ran, and they studied.

 

Using their spite as extra motivation, the child flourished and grew into adulthood.

 

_

 

_Sometime later_

_

 

“And now for our next speaker at the Annual Skwigelf Convention, a familiar face. After graduating from Harvard Law summa cum laude, she specialised in Family Law, co-founded a law firm comprised of Skwigelf lawyers, and is one of the founding members of the Convention. Please give a warm welcome to our sister, Anna Skwigelf Robertson!”

 

The speaker stood forward, smiling widely at the room of people assembled before her. Whilst not everyone in the room looked exactly alike, and some looked more like their sire than others, there was something in them all that she felt she recognised. She took a moment to let the applause fade before she spoke. “Thank you everyone. It’s so great to see you all again, I know how hard it can be to take the time off to attend these gatherings.

 

“We’ve heard a lot today about our siblings and their many successes, but I’m here to talk about the future.” A murmur went around the room at those words. “As some of you may know, I was blessed enough to grow up with a loving mother and grandmother. My grandmother worked while I was at school, and my Mom took classes and did nightshifts. I never had to go hungry, even if things were tight. But not all of us have been so lucky. I know from speaking to so many of you that many of our mothers struggled far more than mine to raise us. Some of you have gone hungry. Some of you have suffered because there was little help for your parents when they really needed it.

 

“The law is a powerful thing, but the law is limited in what it can do without human intervention.” Anna looked up to the back of the hall, where many of her siblings seemed to blur together. “That is an injustice that I cannot ignore. I went into family law because I wanted to help people, and I have had the privilege of being able to voice my concerns before Congress. Let me assure you all that I care very deeply about the welfare of single parents and children. That’s why today, I am proud to announce that Congress is considering a bill that will ensure vulnerable mothers and children are given the support they need.”

 

The hall was filled with thunderous clapping from all sides. Although the noise could get overwhelming, Anna found that she enjoyed it, especially in a room full of her peers.

 

_

 

Offstage, Anna quickly found some of her siblings. Casey enveloped Anna in a tight hug, which she returned. Physical contact was less of an issue these days, at least where certain family was involved. Bianca and David weren’t much for hugging, but they were both smiling and relaxed after a tense day of planning. “That went off without a hitch.” David gushed. “The media will eat this up.”

 

“Of course they will. It’s perfect.” Bianca twirled one of her braids between her fingers thoughtfully. “The media loves mothers and children. You know, as long as they’re being motherly and adorable. And the bill is massive. There’s so much fine print in there, nobody could comb through it in time to object.”

 

 “Bianca, you sound like a bad TV stereotype.” Casey laughed at their sister. “We have to be careful, but it’s not exactly like we’ve been doing this in secret. The bill is harmless.”

 

David snorted. “Unless you happen to be a certain someone.

 

“ _Mostly_ harmless.”

 

Anna shook her head. “Even if it gets attention, the focus of the bill is on governmental assistance. The major parties both back it. Most people won’t look past the fuzzy headline, if it even gets that much recognition.”

 

Bianca’s grin was eerily shark-like. “And even if they do, it’ll be too late for anyone to do anything about it.”

 

_

 

_“And last up today, has Skwisgaar created an army of demigods? The latest Annual Skwigelf Convention focused on showcasing the success stories of Dethklok’s resident lothario’s alleged offspring. Internet sources are claiming that this is all part of a conspiracy to take over the world. Dethklok has thus far remained silent about plans for world domination, but who knows what this crazy band will do next? And that’s the Dethklok Minute!”_

Charles sighed at the latest news report. Every time a Skwigelf did something, it was world domination this and irresponsible parenting that. Many seemed to forget that the Skwigelfs (alleged Skwigelfs, he reminded himself) had literally nothing to do with Skwisgaar. No doubt there would be some daytime TV segment about the Skwigelf progeny the next day. None of this was exactly _bad_ , per se, but it did cause some complications and the odd awkward phone call with the UN.

 

Ah well, thought Charles. There was little point in focusing on it. Skwisgaar’s current stable was largely infertile, and Charles had more pressing matters to deal with.

 

Death tolls and emotionally unstable band members were far more pressing than the Skwigelfs.

 

_

 

_“So Bianca, tell us. What’s it like to campaign alongside your half siblings?”_

_“It’s an absolute delight. We really gel as a team and we’re always looking out for each other.”_

_“No sibling rivalry then?”_

_“Like all families, we have our disagreements. But we love each other and we respect our differences.”_

_“Well Bianca, you and your sister Anna are something of a success story, in spite of your apparent political differences. The Children’s Support Bill that you’ve been an integral part in shaping, that has the support of all sides of the House, and different interest groups that would usually be arguing have come together to pass this remarkable legislation. To what do you attribute this overwhelming support?”_

_“Both Anna and I are very passionate people. We care about the work we do, and I think Congress, the Senate, the government, they’ve all realised the good that can be done with bipartisan co-operation. I hope that this is a trend which continues for worthy causes like this one.”_

_“I’m afraid that’s all we have time for today, but Bianca thank you so much for gracing our sofa, you’re an inspiration. But don’t go anywhere folks, because after the break we’re going to be interviewing the bestselling author of ‘Killing Your Feelings: A Self Help Story’! Stay tuned!”_

_

Bianca splashed cold water on her face and patted herself dry with a mysteriously appearing paper towel. The hand offering it had short nails with royal blue polish – Casey. “I hate those assholes. Why can’t you do the talkshows?”

 

“Because if another one of those assholes misgenders me I’m going to punch them.” Casey fiddled with their phone, swiping wildly across the screen. “Besides, you’re good at it. You look amazing on the screen. Me, I look like a kid. And the lights just… shine off of David’s head.”

 

Bianca snorted. “Don’t let him catch you saying that.”

 

“Pfft, David can’t touch me. Marco likes me way too much.” Casey said, grinning at their sister. “You did good out there today though. David’s still in court, but he said he’d phone when he’s out.”

 

In spite of everything, Bianca felt an easiness settle over her. “How’s the case going? It was that horrible divorce, right?”

 

Casey nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one. Mr Chan was hoping to get custody of his daughter.”

 

It amused Bianca how many people in the world were genuinely decent parents, and horrified her how difficult it could be for them to get custody. “Okay, what else is on the agenda for today?”

 

“Anna should be finished speaking with Senator Lawrence at five, you’ve got the interview at half five, and then you both have dinner at seven with the Mayor’s wife and her friends – who twisted a lot of arms to get our bill support, so you both need to _radiate_ charm.”

 

Bianca rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror. What they were doing was important. But there was so little time to breathe in between everything. Although they sounded chirpy, Bianca could see the permanent dark circles under Casey’s eyes. They made them look unfortunately similar to their sire, although Bianca would never mention it. If Anna hadn’t had a make-up team with her for all of the speeches and events, she would have looked much the same. David was tired, his husband was missing him, and his mom was sending him irritated texts about getting enough food and sleep. And Bianca? She felt old. Older than she had any right to feel. Her eyes felt puffy, and her face looked thinner than it should. Her cheekbones, which were always fairly prominent, seemed sharper.

 

It wasn’t a secret that despite all of the Skwigelfs making an effort to bond and be a family, there was a horrible tension underlying those efforts. Apart from Anna, none of them looked noticeably like Skwisgaar, at least not to outsiders. Most people looked at Bianca and David and never guessed a thing, given that both of them were so far from the scary blonde-blue-eyed Aryan image of Skwigelfs the media loved to portray. Darker skin and brown eyes always seemed far from the media image of Skwigelf progeny, and yet some of the most successful Skwigelfs had those exact traits. Ignoring the perceived outliers was a damn injustice, and it made Bianca’s blood boil. And yet, Bianca was thankful that she didn’t look like the man. Even Casey looked nothing like him, with their short brown hair and hazel eyes.

 

Anna, by contrast, looked so very much like Skwisgaar. But to her credit, Anna was his polar opposite in so many ways. That was something Bianca was proud of, when it came to their little pocket of Skwigelfs. They were all good people. They were all in a position of power, and not one of them had decided to use it solely for personal gain. Their employees were paid fairly and their families were all living well. When the bill became law, there would be a lot of children whose lives became markedly better.

 

Bianca threw the paper towel in the bin. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. “Okay. Can we get some overpriced sugary lattes on our way to the interview?”

 

“Sure thing!” Casey grinned at the mention of coffee. “There’s a Duncan Hills just round the corner… want to see if they do a decent caramel macchiato?”

 

(They didn’t, but it was always worth going in for the looks the Dethklok fans gave anyone asking for a suitably frothy, sweet coffee abomination.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to get back to this because of things, but it's here.

_“…our political correspondent Rosa Capaldi is on the scene. Rosa?”_

_“Yes, good evening Brad. The Senate has just voted in an overwhelming majority for the_ Children’s Support Bill, _a piece of legislation which will give children in lower income and single parent families far greater financial assistance.”_

_“Rosa, what is it about this Bill that’s so special?”_

_“Well Brad, the bill itself has proven to be incredibly popular with most politicians in the House and Senate. There have been stories of cross-party co-operation and camaraderie in an era where we’ve all become so used to division and bipartisan co-operation. That more than anything else has characterised the entire process.”_

_“Thank you Rosa, we’ll be back to talk with you shortly. Breaking news! Dethklok frontman Nathan Explosion is apparently looking for monogamous love – again! Our Dethklok correspondent Sonja Nickleson is at the Mordland border investigating. Sonja?”_

_

 

Briefcase in hand, David strolled to the hotel his siblings were meeting in. He had spent a long day in court, met Marco for dinner, and remembered to call his mom to ask when she and his step-father would be coming over for Sunday dinner. Marco, ever the doting fiancé, insisted on having his future in-laws over every other Sunday.  He claimed he was trying to get on Mrs Greene's good side, but David knew that his mother adored Marco and that Marco loved being at the heart of a full house.

 

David frequently thanked whatever twist of fate had made Marco decide to fall for him. Given that David hated clubs and didn't drink, it was a miracle he'd managed to meet anyone at all (or so his mom would've said). If Bianca hadn't dragged him along to a particularly dull party during their undergrad, he never would have met his partner. And he was so, so happy that Marco wanted the same things as him. Stability, financial security, a nice apartment and marriage. One day the apartment would be a house, and one day the stability would be traded in for children, but that was a while away.

 

The present moment was another thing entirely. As a family, Anna, Bianca, Casey and David had decided a long time ago that the nasty business That Man (always said with a scowl and particular emphasis) was responsible for had to be resolved. David, usually the calmest voice in the room, found that all it took to break his composure on a bad day was for somebody to mention of That Man. Being in court and dealing with clients and cases was child's play in comparison. Whenever he heard people talking about how attractive Skwisgaar was or how good he was at guitar, David wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake them. 'He's an asshole who can play guitar!' He wanted to scream. 'He doesn't care about other people!' He wanted to explain. 'My mom had to work her ass off to raise me and the damn tuition money had to go on food and rent, so I had to work my ass off too and even when my mom got married things were tight and that asshole didn't care because he never fucking bothered to find out what happened to anyone he knocked up.' David said to nobody.

 

Child support would have saved him and his mom way back when.

 

Yes, David had survived, and yeah, he was doing better than anyone had dreamed he would. His mom and step-father lived in a beautiful home and his own apartment was luxurious. He loved his job and he was earning enough to help out his family. It still didn't make up for all of the years he had spent struggling and worrying. It didn't make up for the hell That Man put his mom through.

 

Spite, David knew, was a powerful motivator. Spite and passion could shake foundations, topple a house of cards, and rebuild. His family was growing stronger, fed on determination and spite and love. The thought brought David a kind of serenity even in the midst of his mixed feelings. The bill was well on its way to becoming law - they had seen to it. Once it was done, they could shake off the TV appearances and the well-meaning but endlessly irritating questions from reporters and talk show hosts. Everything they had done as a family was for the greater good, but the constant pressure wasn’t something any of them wanted to keep up.

 

The signing of the bill into law was to be a lavish affair – and none of them would be present. They had more important matters to attend to. Politics and showmanship had their places, but vengeance called for a more personal touch.

_

 

Casey greeted David with a quick peck on the cheek as they met in the hotel lobby. Bianca was already upstairs in the suite of rooms that had been booked, no doubt sharing a celebratory bottle of wine with Anna. “How was it?”

 

“Better than expected. We got out on time, and I saw Marco.” David smiled at the mention of his fiancé.

 

Casey grinned back at him. “I’m so glad. Really, you’ve been working so much. When this is over, you should take Marco somewhere nice.”

 

“Don’t tempt me, we’d end up eloping.” David joked.

 

“Oh, David Greene!” Casey clutched their chest dramatically. “The scandal! Your Mom would never forgive you if you didn’t have a nice big church wedding.”

 

“My _stepdad_ would never forgive us if we didn’t have a nice big church wedding.” David was laughing now. “He’s only been planning the floral arrangements for the last three months.”

 

It was short conversations like this that made Casey feel incredibly thankful for their family, odd though it was. For all that they hated That Man, they couldn’t help but love that something negative had given them so much good. “Well, let’s get through the obligatory meeting and victory drinks, and then you can make those plans to not elope.”

 

“Did you remember the-“

 

“Yes, your damn lemonade’s there. And it’s the good stuff, it comes in a _glass_ bottle.” Casey winked at their brother before swiping the key card to get into the suite. As expected, Bianca and Anna were halfway through a bottle of fancy red wine. The aforementioned lemonade was already cooling in a bucket of ice, just as Casey had left it. Their own glass of whiskey was sitting on a low table beside Anna, just as they had left it.

 

Although the room was only theirs for the night, the simple fact that their family was here made Casey feel at home. They kicked off their shoes and went straight for their whiskey.

 

Bianca and Anna turned to greet their siblings, and budged over to make room on the sofa. “Looks like the gang’s together.” Bianca said, gesturing for David to sit beside her. “We should start properly now, if you’re all comfortable.”

 

“Yeah, let’s get to the good stuff.” Anna agreed.

 

Casey nodded. “Okay, our first order of business. Congratulations are in order for all of us, we’ve really worked well together as a team this last while. Skwigelf Law’s reputation has never been better, and business is amazing. That’s on top of us running a successful campaign to make it easier for single mothers and children to get access to financial support, infiltrating the political elite, crafting harmless and likable TV personas, and keeping our plans under wraps.”

 

“And we didn’t break character.” Bianca added.

 

“Or punch anyone who asked invasive personal questions.” Anna smiled serenely.

 

“Or run screaming into the wilderness to avoid reporters.” David said.

 

“And we all get extra points for that. I think.” Casey thought for a moment. “Yep, we definitely get extra points.”

 

“So… are we ready for what comes next?”

 

Although David posed the question, Casey knew, as all of them knew, that they had no choice to be ready. “Well, we just passed a law with a hidden clause that allows single parents to sue for child support payments from biological parents regardless of any prior legal agreement. We either strike as soon as physically possible, or we wait until we have a bigger case and risk Offdensen figuring it out.”

 

There was a tense silence. Maybe everyone was weighing up how far they had come, and maybe they were taking a moment to think about the risks and rewards of what they had planned so long ago. All Casey knew was that they were incredibly relieved when Bianca broke the silence. “Of course we have to go on the attack. That Man, I mean, he’s taken so much from us. We’ve never met the bastard, and he’s taken from us. Even if this wasn’t right, even if we didn’t have support… I’d still think that we should do it.”

 

“I’m getting really sick of looking like an asshole who doesn’t pay child support.” Anna drained the rest of her wine and glared at the empty glass. “I’d at least like to look like an asshole who gives his biological children their dues.”

 

“I put too damn much on the line to not go after this.” David said forcefully. “I say we finish the job and make it a good one.”

 

When one was an efficient, effective personal assistant, one damn well made sure that everything was ready and waiting. It was Casey’s opinion that the best of the best should be able to make everything feel effortless for other people, as if it happened by magic. A law degree was useful and all, but not everyone was cut out for court or TV. Anxiety was a bitch that way. Years of stressful all-nighters and learning how to bullshit their way through classes when they really just wanted to nap left Casey with no desire to practice the law. The horrifying experience had, however, left them with a damn near superhuman ability to thrive in organised chaos. The last while had tested their patience and stretched their abilities, but they had survived. If surviving meant growing overly attached to their coffee cup. “We promised that all of us would agree or it wouldn’t happen. I took the liberty of making sure that everything we need to go is ready, so whatever we decide, we can act upon it immediately. And… I agree with all of you. So here’s the plan.”

 

Over the next few hours, Casey discussed the finer details of their plan of action. Access to Mordhaus, access to Offdensen, protection from the various dangers of Mordhaus and Dethklok… everyone knew their places and their parts, from what they would do and say to what they would wear (because if the asshole one was serving papers to didn’t have a decent waiting room, it paid to be wearing comfortable shoes). Tomorrow the real work would begin, but before tomorrow came, Casey intended to make sure that their siblings were relaxed and well-rested in preparation.

 

-

 

Skwisgaar woke. A glance at his dethphone revealed that it was early in the morning - far earlier than he should have woken up, given the night he'd had. He tried to pull the covers back over himself and burrow into sleep, but it evaded him.

 

Strange as it was, Skwisgaar felt alert and rested. An overwhelming sense of calm and peace seemed to have descended across Mordhaus, and if _that_ wasn't cause for immediate suspicion, he didn't know what was. The feeling was unnatural, except it was all too natural to Skwisgaar. He had felt this same numbing calm before. Once, when he found his first guitar. Twice, when he thought that his father had been found. Thrice, when he accepted that he wasn't a normal human (hard as that had been for him).

 

But now? Nothing had happened. There was no snow to trigger this response, or an emotional calamity or… anything. Skwisgaar thought hard as he washed, shaved and threw on clothes, but nothing seemed to come to his mind.

 

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he had been in a constant state of apathy for so long that this was the inevitable calamity.

 

If he honestly thought about his life as it stood, then Skwisgaar had to admit that he had been in a rut for a while. After everything he had been through with his mother and his former stepfather and the band and Toki…

 

Now there was a good thing that had soured. When Toki had first joined Dethklok, it was like a chemical reaction had sparked. Like adding potassium to water. There was a connection he hadn't felt with anyone before, and it fuelled the band in ways they never could have anticipated. For a time, Skwisgaar had been happy. Genuinely, unreservedly happy. The memory felt almost alien now, of him and Toki playing together and feeling that drive, that chemistry. It had been something beautiful, their partnership. They had spent so much time together, practicing and talking about everything and anything. Sometimes they would play for hours and only realise when Offdensen or Nathan came to get them.

 

And then right before his eyes, everything had warped into an easy formula of drugs, drink, sex, and apathy. Except that wasn't quite right either, because hidden under the aggressive lack of giving a fuck, there was a core that was scared and insecure and selfish and plain toxic. Fame, it seemed, had exacerbated all of the band's worst traits. It made trying to strike that same balance hard when Skwisgaar was at once frustrated with Toki's comparative lack of progress and scared at any sign that Toki might get better than him. Of course it didn't help that Toki found it easier and easier to become lazy with practice, especially given that no matter what he did Skwisgaar would just slate it and re-record it. It didn't help matters that Toki had become more erratic and prone to horrific lapses in judgement, and avoided responsibility like plague. But none of it helped, and none of the band was willing to get involved when it mattered. Or ever, in fact. Not really.

 

Things hadn't been right for a while. It was hard to put an exact date on it, but Skwisgaar knew for certain that things had gotten steadily worse over time for Dethklok. There was no good reason for him to be feeling like this, and yet there was every reason for him to be feeling like this, given the circumstances.

 

A sharp _crack_ brought Skwisgaar to his senses. The glass he had been gripping was broken. A brief examination of his hand showed no blood, but he felt irritation flare briefly. "Fucking dildoes." He spat. It felt good to have something to be annoyed about. Fuck this shit, fuck those destiny bullshit senses, and fuck whatever fucking thing was coming his way.

 

Skwisgaar threw what was left of the glass in the bin, and stormed out of his room. His feet were leading him to Offdensen's office, angrily stomping past everything else until he came to the door. Instead of knocking, he threw open the door and stopped short.

 

There were people in the room. That was a surprise in and of itself. If Skwisgaar had been paying attention, he would have noticed the overwhelming stack of papers neatly piled on the desk and the distressed frown on Offdensen's face. Instead, Skwisgaar was drawn to the strangers in the room.

 

These people weren't the average suits Charles generally dealt with.

 

One woman stood tall, dressed regally in purple and black, her braided hair piled up in a chic bun. A frown knitted her brows, and her eyes seemed to glow (but how could they?) and her scowl was eerily familiar…

 

A young man stood at the opposite side of the desk, green tie and gold cufflinks standing out against his suit. His face was calm, accepting of the inevitable, and his kind, dark eyes made Skwisgaar feel about an inch tall…

 

An assistant in blue, their earrings and facial studs striking a beautiful contrast with their professional demeanour. Their sardonic smirk and the poised way they held their stylus above their tablet like a surgeon’s knife above sacrificial victim was unnervingly predatory...

 

And the young woman in red. Rubies at her throat and ears caught the light and seemed to glisten like blood against her hair and skin. She radiated confidence and power in a way that was far too close for comfort, and although her face was rounder and her nose was a bit smaller, there was no denying that she was the absolute spitting image of Skwisgaar in his prime…

 

There was no denying any of them. Skwisgaar knew in the pit of his stomach that the people standing before him were his biological children. None of them were exactly like him (except for the blonde woman), but they all had a glimmer of recognition about them that made him know instinctively that they were Skwigelfs. In a courtroom he could have (and would have) been able to deny them easily. Here, in his home, in his manager’s office, the air seemed to weigh down with the force of these people who had breached his safety. In another situation, Skwisgaar might have found something eloquent to say about the universe being a cruel, unforgiving place. What he did say was closer to, “Whats in de name of fuck ams they doing here?”

 

“Ah, Skwisgaar.” Charles spoke before any of the strangers in the room. “These are the, ah, legal representatives from Skwigelf Law. They were just serving child support papers.” Though Charles said the words in a very matter of fact tone Skwisgaar could see the familiar look of resignation in his eyes, especially crafted for whenever the band had decided to do something incredibly regrettable.

 

“Child supports payment?” Skwisgaar couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Or seeing.

 

“It’s really very simple, Mr Skwigelf.” Lady-Not-Skwisgaar smiled at him, teeth bared. “The law changed recently to give greater support to single parents.”

 

Skwisgaar snorted. “Ja, and whats of its?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t know?” The regal purple woman moved closer towards her sister (there was no way they weren’t related, they had the same aura and the same menacing self-satisfied feeling etched into every movement). “Those contracts Mr Offdensen had drawn up – a lovely piece of work, I have to admit – are now legally useless.”

 

Skwisgaar flinched as though he had been struck. He wanted to ask how such a thing could be possible, but he knew exactly how such a thing was possible. Whether they knew it or not (they knew, of course they knew, they could probably smell the weakness on him) his descendants had struck at a time when the band was vulnerable. The heady scent of blood filled his nostrils even though he wasn’t bleeding and _nobody_ had drawn blood and he wondered if he was going to faint. Gods he didn’t really believe in were being offered silent almost-prayers that he wouldn’t fall in front of these people.

 

“Ms Castillo, please.” Offdensen addressed the young woman in purple. “The matter of the, eh, child support payments can be settled without this… preamble.” He guided Skwisgaar out of the room and gestured to a Klokateer standing nearby. “Escort Skwisgaar to his quarters. I need to take care of this. We’ll can discuss any implications in the near future.”

 

Before Skwisgaar could argue or even string words together, Offdensen had closed the doors to his office. The Klokateer standing watch over Skwisgaar made to help him, and Skwisgaar angrily shoved his hand out of the way. “Touch me and you ams losings dat arm.” The Klokateer quickly stepped back and offered an apology, but Skwisgaar was having none of it. He stormed off in the general direction of his room before doubling back and deciding that he wanted to be anywhere but. He was torn between wanting to never see another human face again and wanting to bury himself in human contact.

 

Normally whenever Skwisgaar felt this way he would play his guitar alone in his room until he couldn’t bear to be alone any more, and then he would send for women from his stable and fuck until he couldn’t get it up any more. That usually sent him into an exhausted stupor, and by the time he woke up from it he either couldn’t really remember what had caused his distress or fell back into a familiar, comfortable numbness.

 

This time, Skwisgaar wasn’t sure what would make it better. Would anything stop him from feeling this churning, gut-wrenching sense of dread? Offdensen had always seemed like an invincible force. Yes, he could screw up, but in the grand scheme of things Offdensen making a mess of things was a rarity. Like unicorns or Dethklok being sober. Maybe it happened, but it probably didn’t really. And the thought that Skwisgaar had even the smallest amount of responsibility for creating those… _people_ truly scared him.

 

Skwisgaar found himself on the roof of Mordhaus, the wind pulling at his hair. Up here, he felt closer to his old invincibility. More like a god than a man, and far less like someone whose own flesh and blood were baying for his.

 

Those Skwigelfs. They stood tall with power and loathing and _spite_. That they had gotten into Mordhaus without so much as a scratch spoke volumes about what they were capable of. And they had turned their spite and anger on _him_.

 

If there was one thing Skwisgaar could understand, it was hating a parent.

 

Now there were Skwigelfs in the world who were powerful enough to stand toe to toe with Offdensen and (presumably) live to tell the tale. In the same way that Svereta’s neglect had formed Skwisgaar, his neglect on an epic scale had birthed powerful beings. Of course Skwisgaar knew that it was wrong to not pay child support and for fathering an insane number of children he had no intention of helping. He had just… ignored it. For so long, he had ignored things like morality and duty. Those were concerns for other people. Lesser beings worried about such small things. Yet, when Skwisgaar found that he didn’t care about the smaller things, the bigger things fell by the wayside too. Important things.

 

Somewhere along the way, Skwisgaar had forgotten what it felt like to be so motivated by hate and spite. Genuine spite, not the petty thing he sometimes inflicted upon his bandmates, or Offdensen, or the Klokateers. Could gods become washed up, dispassionate husks? Was it wrong, was it sad that he almost envied the fact his descendants could take so much glee in tearing into him? It was a powerful force. Feelings like that had inspired Skwisgaar’s music and playing more than anything else. When he had that motivation, nothing felt like it was out of his reach. There wasn’t much Skwisgaar could think of that he wouldn’t trade at that moment to be able to feel something that intense again.

 

“Oh! Skwisgaar, yous here.”

 

Skwisgaar turned and found himself face to face with Toki. Wonderful. That was exactly what Skwisgaar needed in his darkest hour: a reminder of everything _else_ he had utterly failed at. “Why ams you even here Toki?”

 

“You kiddings me? I hears you stompings around likes a rhinosursurusk. Eithers you gets really angry or you haves massive traumas.” Toki came closer to Skwisgaar, hand stretched out as if to touch him, comfort him. He seemed to think better of it, lowering his hand and clenching it into a fist. “It maybies ams not such a goods ideas to be up here.”

 

“Doesn’t matters much no more.” Skwisgaar folded his arms. Until Toki had arrived, he hadn’t thought about how cold it was on the roof of Mordhaus. But somehow, Toki’s arrival had brought him out of his godlike state. His stomach churned with acid and he felt cold, so unspeakably cold. “Offdensen ams arguing with lawyers about t’ings. Looks like we ams going to lose money to those childs supports payment.”

 

“Childs supports payment?” Toki sounded shocked. “But… yous haves never lost.”

 

“I knows.” Skwisgaar laughed. “Mine own childrens ams a force not to be crossed.” He could feel himself trembling, and Skwisgaar hated it. He hated feeling vulnerable, and he especially hated feeling vulnerable and wrecked in front of Toki. “Not likes I didn’ts deserve worse. If anything they goes easy on me.”

 

False bravado didn’t impress Toki. “Whatevers. You gets you ass kicked.” He shrugged. “Likes you say, you deserve it. Probablies make you less of an asshole if you does the rights thing.”

 

Skwisgaar shook his head. “That ams parts of the problem. Dat doesn’t make me feel like I dids better thing or like I gets what’s comings.” Why he was admitting anything to Toki, Skwisgaar couldn’t have said. Perhaps he had finally lost the will to care. “I don’ts really feels anything. Shoulds feel angry or like I’s been a dildo. Just don’ts feels like anything no more.”

 

It said a worrying amount about the situation Skwisgaar found himself in that he didn’t resist when Toki hugged him. It said even more that he clung to his friend, and allowed himself to crumple into someone else’s arms. Weak, shaking, and afraid that it was too late to change the horrifying course his fate was headed in, Skwisgaar held on to Toki like he was the last real thing left in the world.

 

_

 

Far away from Mordhaus, Anna stepped out of her heels and sighed with relief. Her heart was thudding in her ears with the aftershock of adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream. Offdensen had been unable to weasel his way out of making Skwisgaar pay his dues. More than that, she had felt something incredible. The power that linked the Skwigelfs was beyond comprehension, and yet for a moment they had all been able to tap into something that wasn’t quite human. It was vicious, it was feral, and it made Anna feel her resolve to fight strengthen.

 

_

 

Safely out of the clutches of Offdensen, Bianca slid off her bracelets and placed them carefully into her jewellery box. She hadn’t felt so happy or so content in a long time. Her siblings were safe, and she could resume her place as the head of a powerful law firm. Except now, Bianca had proof of what she had always known. Power lived within her, housed in her mortal shell. It didn’t matter what anybody else thought when they looked at her. Bianca was more than any onlooker could ever imagine, and she was part of something bigger than anybody else could ever conceive.  

 

_

 

Away from the forces of Dethklok, Casey slung their jacket over a chair and flicked across screens on their tablet. The news hadn’t yet picked up the story of Offdensen’s humiliation, but it was only a matter of time. They felt unusually satisfied by their handiwork. Nobody else could have made efficiency and organisation look quite so scary, but there was something about being surrounded in enemy territory that brought out the best in Skwigelfs. The strange forces that acted upon them were beyond comprehension, but perhaps Offdensen had understood exactly what he was dealing with. After all, Casey mused, when they had offered Offdensen their card and a cheerful “do get in contact if you need any future advice”, he had taken it.

 

_

 

Resting securely in his home, David loosened his tie and took a drink of orange juice. Marco was sleeping on the sofa, hair spread out at odd angles and the occasional snore coming from his mouth. David smiled fondly at his fiancée and went to find a blanket to cover him. As he searched through the apartment, David wondered if he would ever be able to explain to Marco exactly what had happened that day in Offdensen’s office. How monstrous they had all been, how otherworldly and beautifully vengeful. He suspected it was something that nobody outside of the Skwigelf line would ever be able to understand. Maybe that was okay. Maybe it was all right for nobody else to know. Even having known that power, David knew he wouldn’t care if it never visited him again. This, in the here and now, was more important.

 

_

 

_Sometime later…_

_“We’re receiving reports that Toki Wartooth has not been seen in public for months. Sonja, what’s going on?”_

_“That’s just it Brad, nobody seems to have any idea what’s happening with Dethklok. After announcing their break up about a month ago, the band has since been seen in public many times, always without Wartooth. Dethklok have declined to comment, fuelling rumours about what exactly is going on. Has Toki moved on to other projects? Is he unwell? We just don’t know, and the fans are not happy about this sad, confusing turn of events.”_

_

 

“Are you seeing this?”

 

“Bianca it’s three in the morning and _yes_ , I’m seeing this.”

 

“Why are we all watching this? I have a meeting with Pastor Laurens tomorrow!”

 

“Lover boy, your wedding plans can wait. If Dethklok screw everything up again, the economy will go down the toilet and none of our money will be worth anything. Of course we should be watching this mess!”

 

“Guys, as the world’s most attractive and all round best PA, I’m telling you to go to sleep. We’re not going to learn anything useful from those guys. If anything interesting happens, we’ll find out along with the rest of the world.”

 

“But… what if we can do something?”

 

“Trust me, if they want us, they know where to find us.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one. Thank you for reading it! Comments are always lovely and if anyone has advice for Skwisgaar and Toki's speech patterns, PLEASE let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stress enough that I don't hate Skwisgaar by any means (I actually love him a lot) but he's really irresponsible and frankly if I was him I wouldn't try screwing over my army of children. It's bound to end badly.


End file.
